The Warlord
by Cearbhail
Summary: I moved to Skyrim to retire, but after finding out that the Stormcloaks are ruining everything I worked to build, I will put my Imperial helm back on and do whatever it takes to end this war once and for all.
1. Chapter 1

**Cearbhail:**

So, everyone. This story, called the Warlord, is a requested story by username: Not telling you. The overall character, past, and everything about the story was given to me by this person. And although this person does not personally want to write this story, they decided to ask me to write it for them. So... here we go. Welcome to the Warlord, which is not placed in my established Chronicles universe. _  
_

 _Oh... and enjoy =^^=_

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"Welcome to Solitude, capital of Skyrim. Before you step off the ship, I just need to ask you a few questions."

Ah, Solitude. I spent the last few nights on a slow-moving barge ship, carrying necessary fruits and vegetables from Hammerfell to Skyrim. The ship needed some amount of protection on their trip to Solitude, and offered me free passage if I offered protection against pirates and sea-born attackers. The barge got stuck several times in the thick ice-laden oceans in the north. During the hours it took for the barge mages to melt the ice surrounding the ship, I would watch for invading ice bandits. And we were attacked several times. But each time we were attacked, I managed to defend the ship. Lowly bandits, unskilled sword swingers; no discipline, no form, no tactics other than charge the enemy and hope for the best. They stood no chance against my sword and shield. I'm an experienced Legionnaire.

I was brought back to the Imperial soldier standing in front of him. In his hands were my Imperial Record: a single binder filled with my birth records, my employment into the Imperial Legion, and every battle I've ever fought in. He was looking it over as he confirmed I was who was standing in front of him.

Having traveled all across Tamriel, I'm all too used to provincial records. If I'm going to be living here in Skyrim, I will need to be recorded in the Imperial Records. The man standing in front of me, a young Imperial soldier who looks like a fresh recruit, looked up at me with a checkbook with a list of names on it. I could already see my name on the list, and if the kid knew anything of my name, he would have a full legion of soldiers surrounding me, preparing to have me arrested.

The soldier looked up at me. "So, you're Flavius Valentinianus, correct?"

I nodded. "Yes. I'm an Imperial, born and raised in Cyrodiil."

"In what year were you born in?" He asked as he looked at my birth record.

"4e 150, 7th First Seed. Born under the Lord birthsign. I'm 51 years old."

As I watched the soldier go over his notes, as well as my Imperial Record, he went over his notes, flipping through the large document. His eyes darted from file to file, and his face started showing his astonishment as he read all the accounts of every battle I ever fought in, every campaign I signed up to command, as well as my recorded Imperial Rank: Legate, Knight of the Garland. Once he read through my file, his stance straightened up as he looked back at me. "Welcome, Legate Valentinianus."

I shook my head at hearing my old rank, waving the salute off. "Look kid, I'm old. I'm just here to retire. I hear the cold snowy weather is great for my war injuries, the warm weather aggravates my old injuries, and the snow can be used in a cold compress." I'm looking forward to buying myself a nice cottage and starting up my own farm. Maybe I'll even find myself a wife, settle down, have a child.

The soldier nodded as he closed my Imperial Record. "Yes, sir. I'll just take your records to the records office. Enjoy your stay in Skyrim. If you need any information on the region, please visit our regional tourism office, located downtown Solitude."

I almost laughed at the thought. I've been everywhere in Tamriel by now, even spent a few years in Skyrim already, but it's been a good 20 years since I've stepped foot in this province. I was a fresh recruit much like this kid. It brought a smile to my face. I bet he wasn't even born in this province, like me. He was probably dropped off here in Solitude to spend a few years in the bitter cold so that he happily accepts his next mission drop into a worse place like Black Marsh or even on a ship circling the ocean around Akavir. I know how the Empire works.

I patted the soldier on the shoulder as I stepped off the boarding ramp. So, this was it. I'm now I'm Skyrim. I wonder how I will start my new life. I guess I'll go to the local tavern, and hear what the local news is. The first step in moving to a new land is to find out what's going on in the new land. The tourism office would probably be the worst place to get a full view of this province. Their job is to make this land seem like the best place in Tamriel and carefully keep me in areas where their commerce is controlled and heavily taxed. I want to see all of Skyrim's beauty, in a way that I couldn't appreciate in my early 20's.

I ran through a quick mental checklist of everything I had on me. Apart from my standard armor plates that I earned in war, my various weapons I had slung over my belt, or thrown over my back, or still had in my other home in Hammerfell, I had a duffle sack that carried all my gold, my clothes, field rations, and schematics for things farm equipment, homemade bars, and other retirement stuff. I know I won't find the perfect home in Solitude, or out in the wilds, so I'm probably going to have to build it myself. Or hire someone else to do it for me… and I don't usually rely on other people to do what I can do in half the time, with twice the effort, and get it right the first time without complications or mistakes that other… special people overlook.

Once I find myself a house, I will write a letter to my old friend Athlen, a Redguard I used to serve with. He has the rest of my stuff, and he'll ship it over to me on his wife's caravan. It will be nice to see them again. Oh well, time to meet the locals. I want to see how Skyrim has changed since the Great War ended. I hear the Thalmor are still an oddity here, and I like that. The further I am away from those murderous bastards, the better.

I took a deep breath as I looked around the docking bay. There were a few ships unloading, including the one I just rode in on. The strong hardy Nords, who made me look weak in comparison, were lifting crates twice my size and carrying them away like it was nothing. I know there is some racial differences between Nords, Bretons, and us Imperials, but I swear the Nords in Cyrodiil were always a bit less threatening when it came to their size. Even so, for an Imperial, my muscles were jacked to a point where I used to win the _Mr. Cyrodiil_ body building competitions, even when I was just a spectator and not a competitor. Yeah, I have muscles, so big and so awesome, that I can't scratch my back anymore.

Even so, these Nords were just as big as I was, and that's something. I worked for these shields on my arms. Maybe living in Skyrim forces one to become more of a person just growing up here. Living in the freezing cold with barely any food other than the animals you hunt will do that to you. Luckily, I have a pocket guide filled with the various fauna and flora. I know enough to be able to make my own farm. Chickens, cattle, potatoes, and wheat. That would be a good start. Snowberries too. I should also see about getting some wood to make a snow collector. That way I'll have water year-round.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I glanced over my shoulder to see the Redguard captain that hired me to protect his barge. "Thanks for your help, Flavius. Are you sure we can't keep you on as our security? Free room, free food, and I'll even pay you."

I shook my head. "No thank you. This place is my home now. If you need someone capable, someone just as good as me, I know a guy in Hammerfell, and maybe a girl here in Skyrim. Last I checked, her name was… Yhelga. She used to live in Dawnstar. She might still be living there. Just tell her that Flavius recommended her. That should get her attention."

The captain nodded, patting me on the shoulder as he turned to pay attention to the unloading ship. "Well, then this is goodbye, Flavius. I hope you find what you're looking for." He turned back around, looking at his checklist as he watched the local dockworkers unloading his ship.

I guess it's time I get moving. The longer I stand here, the less time I have to get set up here in Skyrim. I wish I had thought this through, but coming here and starting fresh is half the fun. First thing is first. I'm not actually in Solitude yet. Solitude is a town hanging over a large cliff, placed there in the olden days because it was an easy place to defend. Invaders could only attack on one front, and it was an uphill battle the whole way to Solitude. The first Nords who settled here were able to defend this town against the Reachmen when they came to claim this as their land. That is why Solitude has survived as long as it has… it's defensive location.

Just looking at the cliff where the city loomed overhead of me, I could see only one tactical error. The rock the city was built on top of wasn't stable. There was a large break in the rocks Solitude sat on top of, and it all came down from the mainland, almost floated on a thick rock structure that lead over into the sea, and then ended with a large unstable pillar of rocks that led into the ocean. Sure, the rock pillar was still large and very much immovable, but… if I were an invading force, I would target any number or resources into breaking that rock pillar. If I did enough structural damage, the rock pillar might sunder, and with it… half, maybe even more than, of the town would crumble and fall down hundreds of feet onto the rocky frozen ground, or even into the sea, where the water was freezing and filled with ice. Though, I suppose… this town has been here for hundreds of years, maybe even thousands. If such a structure were weak enough to give out, it would have by now.

I shake the thought away as I begin my hike up the docking bay. The entire bay is made up of wooden planks floating over the Ghost Sea. The docking bay was built alongside the very cliff I talked about, and the only way out of the docking bay was by a single ascending staircase leading up to a resting area, and then to another staircase leading up to a road. That road will lead me up to Solitude.

And so, I began climbing up the stairs, avoiding any unnecessary conversation. I just want to get to Solitude, get whatever new I can from this place, perhaps rent out a room for the night, and then set out in the morning to find whatever I can. The sooner I find a spot to build my house, or buy one, the better. It might be a better idea to buy a house for now, and then work my way outside to find one to build. I can travel home when I feel the need to, and then travel back. And a horse would be great for that. So, I'll add a horse to the list of things to get while I'm here in Solitude.

Before I knew it, I was already walking up to the main gate leading up to Solitude. I was right about the defensibility of this town. It was an uphill walk the whole way, and running it would easily fatigue any armor-clad soldier. There was a massive wall with archer towers on both sides of it, and a single opening, where both towers had gated entrances where the archers could fire down at you as you filed through the entrance. And I'm guessing that by now the architects have added spike traps and whatnots to the defense entrance. As I glanced up over the awning, I could see the holes where spikes would shoot down. And… there they were. It would be impossible to invade this town with the number of defenses they've added to this town.

As I continued walking up to the town, I noticed the worried look on the soldiers. Most of them were keeping their hands on the handle of their swords as they watched me approach the city. Jeez, if I didn't know better, I'd think we're still at war. I kept the worried stares at the back of my mind as I approached the main gateway, where I was stopped by two Imperial soldiers.

"Halt, traveler. What is your business in Solitude today?" One of the soldiers asked as he placed his hand on his sword's pummel.

I glanced down at his pummel, noticing how… perfect it was. I'm not saying it was a perfect sword, but… what I'm getting at is that this sword has not seen any action. It has no nicks, no wear, no tear. The soldier's armor spoke the same story. No damaged leather, no faded colors, metallic chevrons were still polished. He looked like he just came out of a graduation ceremony. The soldier was still young, still too new to this whole thing. Was this a trend I've ignored with the Legion? Did _all_ new recruits go to Skyrim? I thought it was just me because I was an annoying brat when I first signed on.

Man, I feel sorry for the Legion's Knight of the Imperial Dragon having to deal with so many fresh recruits. Still too battle fresh to know how to handle a real threat.

The soldier waiting for my response was only getting more anxious seeing the steeled look in my eyes. His battle buddy was starting to back away, reaching for his sword as well. He was beginning to set himself up for a pincer attack. Not a bad tactic. If I attacked him, his friend would be able to stab me in my left side, hitting a rib and paralyzing me as I bled out in the snow. And if I attacked gate guard, I would face a stab through my back. Maybe I have these kids misjudged. Add to the fact that three archers were currently trained on me from the archer towers. Looking around, I'm perfectly boxed in. The only way out of here was the cliffside, where the only solace I had was a 50-foot drop to the road I just climbed up.

I decided to end this exercise by answering the guard's question. "I'm new in Skyrim. Wanted to go to the inn, get a drink, and find out what's new in this area. I also want to begin looking for a place to live."

The guard and his friend didn't relinquish their grips on their swords, but the guard did nod. "Ok, traveler. You may proceed. Be warned, today there is an execution."

An execution? That's… an odd punishment. Only reserved for traitors and brigands. "Who's being executed?"

The grips on their swords tightened, and I heard archers reaching back on their bows. Sound carries in this box. Interesting. Would make sneaking through this section also difficult.

"A Stormcloak sympathizer: Roggvir." The soldier replied, now stepping in front of the gate, keeping me from entering.

Stormcloaks… Stormcloaks… I feel like I should know a term like that, but all I can remember is a soldier by the name Stormcloak.

"I'm unfamiliar with that word: Stormcloak. What does it mean to be a Stormcloak?" I asked the soldier. I noticed that my question only made him and his friend seem tenser. Whatever I said was setting off flags for them, and that's not a good thing. I'm beginning to wonder if we're at war again.

The guard unsheathed his sword, aiming at me. "I want to see your hands at all times." Fair enough. If I'm saying trigger phrases, I would have reacted similarly to someone acting odd. They might think I'm one of these Stormcloaks, especially since I'm here at an execution of one of their own. I'm dawned in enough armor and weapons to put down a military. I can see why these soldiers would be suspicious. I should say something to appease their fears.

"I will comply." I raised my hands into the air. "My name is Flavius Valentinianus. I was a Legate in the Legion during the Great War. You have no reason to fear me. I'm just new here, unaware of the local troubles, and most importantly… I'm retired. I don't want any trouble anymore."

That seemed to help the soldier a bit, but he didn't lower his sword. "I can't take you at your word, Legate. I'm sure you understand."

I nodded. "If I was in your shoes, I would be the same way. I know the procedure. So, here's what's happening next. Your friend will pat me down, confiscate my weapons, and then allow me entrance to the town while you report to your own Legate, and have a meeting with them. I will probably be locked in a holding cell until I can verify with this Legate that I am in fact… not whatever a Stormcloak is. Correct?"

The soldier stared at me, bewildered at how I knew exactly how this was going to happen. "Normally, yes. But…" He lowered his sword. He started to say something but then he caught himself. "Well, I will report to the Legate later today. For now, you will be held out here until the execution is over. When Roggvir is executed, you will be allowed entrance to Solitude. Be warned, traveler. If you make any sudden moves the guards don't like, you might end up on the block. Understood?"

I nodded. "The standard treatment." I was curious as to what's going on though. "If you confiscated my weapons and kept me at sword's crab trap, could I watch the execution?" The guard looked confused, so I explained myself. "I want to know what a Stormcloak is. May I observe?"

The guard nodded. "Ok, sir. This will only take a second."

My weapons were quickly unbuckled from my sword belt; my duffle lifted from my shoulders. It was just me in my armor. I must admit, it felt nice to have all that weight off me. And I got these soldiers to carry it for me. Ah, to feel like a Legate again. It felt nice having solders do what I wanted them to do.

I was marched past the gate, two soldiers on both sides of me, their arms wrapped around my back, two daggers pressed into my sides, right underneath my second and third rib on both sides. If I punched one, the effort would force his weapon to pierce me, and while that was happening, his friend would also stab me. It I hit both, chances were, I'd get stabbed by both. The knives were slit into the only open spots my armor had. There was no way I could get away from them even if I wanted to. So… this was a standard way of traveling with prisoners. Add the archer right behind me, and I'm good as dead if I act up.

I was marched into the execution area, where I could see a group already gathering around the execution block. There were a few guards, but mostly what I found were citizens. They all looked mad, the guards looked tense. I took a spot near the end of the crowd, looking up at the man dressed in rags. He must be Roggvir. He certainly looked like a man ready to accept his fate.

"So, what did he do?" I asked the two soldiers keeping me pinned between them.

"Roggvir." A guard wearing red clothed chainmail walked up to the stairs to the execution block. "Five months ago, you helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape Solitude after the murder of the High King." Ulfric Stormcloak. I remember that name. He fought in the Battle of the Red Ring. I was in that battle too. I never saw him on the battlefield; we fought in separate battlefields. He was an honorable man, from what I've heard. "What say you in your defense?"

The man in rags stepped up to the crowd. "There was no murder! Ulfric challenged High King Torygg in honorable combat! Such is the way of Skyrim; such is the way of true Nords!"

The crowd started booing at Torygg. And… I didn't know how to feel about this. I really didn't. I needed more information. I looked to the soldier on my left. "So… I need some answers here."

"Ok…" The soldier replied, carefully keeping his dagger pressed against my hardened skin.

"This man let Ulfric Stormcloak escape Solitude?" The soldier nodded. "And Ulfric challenged Torygg to a duel?" The soldier nodded. "Is that illegal?"

The soldier glanced between me and the other soldier. "Well…" The soldier on my right side began to look away. "It's… not… it's in the records, but it's an old law. No one in the past few hundred years has ever committed a full duel against a High King in so many years… If anyone even remembered the law existed, it would surely have been repealed by now."

The whole point of a dueling clause was to allow the public to do away with corrupt politicians and bring in a new voice for the people. If that voice wasn't good at their job, they could be facing the same exact punishment. The law has been used too many times by corrupt officials to do away with good kings to push their own agendas. That was why the Moot existed. The other Jarls had to back the new contender, even if the previous leader was replaced.

I looked up at the man as he kneeled on the headsman's block. "On this day, I go to Sovngarde." I've heard men say that so many times right before a suicidal mission, or seconds before they bled out. The headsman brought his axe up and brought it straight down onto Roggvir. I watched as the man's head was cleaved from his shoulder. The axe was left down as the blood shot up, shielding the crowd as the blood shot out from the shoulder. Roggvir's body was gently pushed away from the block, where it continued to drain out on the stone platform.

The soldiers glanced at me. "That concludes the execution. No sign of any Stormcloaks." They released their daggers from me.

The gate guard nodded his head to me. "I'm sorry for the discomfort, sir. Please enjoy your stay in Solitude."

"Before you go…" I looked to the soldier. "I want to know what a Stormcloak is. I'm guessing it has something to do with Ulfric Stormcloak, and since this man died for helping Ulfric escape… a crime that isn't fully a crime, and for it to be worth a beheading… it must be important that Ulfric dies." The wheels in my head were already turning, and I think I already know what's going on.

The two soldiers exchanged a glance. "You really don't know?" The gate guard replied. "We're at war. Ulfric Stormcloak started a rebellion five months ago. He seems to think that the White-Gold Concordat was a mistake and thinks that becoming High King will allow him to free Skyrim from Dominion control. The Empire wants to hold onto Skyrim, and so… well… that means the Empire is at war with Stormcloak and his rebellion." The White-Gold Concordat _was_ a mistake. The Empire gave up right as we were about to turn the tides of the war. Our Emperor bent his knee to the Thalmor, handing to them what was so precious to us… our lives, and our freedom. Sacrifices were necessary to keep living freely, but our Emperor didn't seem to think so. We lost the war, even if our historians will call it a tactical victory. Even so… for another war to spring up like this… that's not a good thing. If we're going to recover from the Great War and perhaps become a stronger Empire… we can't be fighting wars like this. "The Stormcloak Rebellion pretty much started after the Markarth Incident back in 176."

"That was a long time ago." Almost 25 years, I believe. Around that time, I would have been in Hammerfell helping the Crowns and the Forebears keep the southern part of Hammerfell out of the Dominion's hands. I had to relinquish my rank in the Legion to do it though. I was disavowed… all that hard work climbing the ranks, thrown away just so I could do the right thing. And while I was doing that, I guess Ulfric was up here doing something too. He and I are pretty alike. Too bad we're completely different when you think of the overall picture. He's weakening whatever power we have left against the Dominion. I… well… I can't let him do this. Killing kings, starting a war. This won't help anyone but him. He needs to be stopped.

Has this war been going on here in Skyrim for the past 26 years? No wonder why these kids were jumpy at me coming up to the gates of Solitude. Great… just great. I came here to retire. I guess I won't be so lucky.

I looked at the soldier. "I need to speak to the presiding general."

The soldier looked from me to his friend. He looked back at me, saying, "He's not here, sir. He's… on a mission."

"Take me to whoever is in charge of the Legion while he's away on mission." There's always a second-in-command.

The soldier pointed to the inn behind us. "Legate Rikke is in the pub, sir."

Rikke? No… no way. _She's_ here?

I patted the soldier on the shoulder, smirking as I walked by. "Tell me… how do I look? Polished? Refined? Ready for pillow talk?"

The soldier seemed completely taken aback by that. He looked from me to his battle buddy. "Um… sir?"

I laughed as I slapped the kid on the back. "No worries, kid. I'm sure I still have the looks to kill. Whoa, sword down. I'm just going to go in there and talk to my old friend." Perhaps bed her. We'll see.

I quickly walked over to the pub, almost forgetting that my weapons and duffle were still sitting outside the city with the other gate guard. Oh well, I'll get it later. I'm about to get something else right now. And I'd rather not wait.

I slammed the pub door open, drawing a commotion from everyone in the pub. "Rikke!" I screamed to the entire pub. I scanned the room, looking for her, and I found her sitting at the bar, her hair still tied up in her bun, her armor not as shiny as it used to be. She looked older, but then again, so do I. I bet she's still the same sweetheart I knew back in the Legion though.

Rikke's eyes snapped back at me, and it didn't even take a full second for her to recognize me. "Flavius?" She slammed her pint onto the bar. She was about to stand up and walk over to me, but right as she stood up, so did six other people. And it was instantaneous. My mind quickly went into defensive. I knew that these men were not standing up to all go take a leak at the same time. They were too quick, too defensive in their stances. Their sleeves blurred as they charged for Rikke. And she was moving just as quickly. As the first person came for her with their knife, she spun past them, locking their arm against her side. With a quick turn, she snapped his arm, making him drop his knife.

I didn't just stand there and watch. I was already on two guys, snatching one by the scruff of his hair and pulling him back at me. I rammed his head into a support beam, catching the soft spot of his temple on a lantern hanging nail. I jumped past him to another of his buddies. I planted a heavy kick on him, throwing him back over a table where a confused wood elf jumped from his drink. He looked at me and then back at the guy I just kicked. He nodded to me before taking his bottle of beer and smashing it over the head of the attempted assassin.

And like that, the whole bar erupted into a bar fight. Everyone was up on their feet. Some were fighting each other, some were fighting themselves, and Rikke and I were fighting the remaining assassins. I ran up to her back, placing mine to hers. "Just like old times." I said to her as I punched an assassin the face. With my beefy muscles behind the punch, I sent the man all the way across the bar, crashing over tables, and slamming into the wall, where the wood-work snapped upon his landing. His face was obliterated. Crap… I swore I wouldn't kill someone with my massive muscles like that again. He didn't seem prepared for it at all. What kind of assassins were these anyway?

Rikke unsheathed her sword, not even hesitating as she charged through two assassins, cutting them down before they could react to her thrust. "Not quite." She responded. "You had hair back then."

"Hey, I still have hair." Just because I'm wearing a hat doesn't mean I'm bald; it just means it's cold here and my ears hate the wind. I actually have a full head of black hair, graying on the sides though. I reached over grabbing one of the assassins. I punched him a few times in the face. "Who are you?" I punched him again. "Who sent you?"

Rikke finished off her assassins, and then turned to face me. "They're probably Stormcloaks. They've done this before." She kicked one of the dead assassins. She walked over to me, gesturing to the guy in my hands. "So… am I correct? Are you a Stormcloak?"

The bruised guy was barely conscious but even he could open one eye and say, "Ulfric is the true High King."

"And he'll make the Empire leave Skyrim, blah, blah, blah." Rikke said with a hint of nonchalance. "We're right here waiting for him." She lifted her sword and brought it up to the man's neck. "So… headsman's block or interrogation room. Prison's a little full at the moment so… that's off the table."

"I would rather die tha-"

"Request granted." Rikke thrusted her sword into the man's neck. I made sure to shield my mouth and eyes as blood squirted out. With that man dead, I no longer had a reason to hold onto him. I let him fall to the ground before I wiped the blood off my face.

I looked over to Rikke, nodding to her. "So… want to go find a quiet place and…"

She grabbed onto my armor plates and started pulling me towards the inn rooms. "You will make up for lost time."

"I have plenty to pay with." I responded as she began to pull me.

* * *

 **Cearbhail:**

So, we have the first requested story I've actually decided to do for someone else. NOTE: I will not be doing any more requested stories. Doing this one is my limit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Cearbhail:**

Well, the second chapter is finally here. It took me longer than I would have liked, but it's finally here. Now, time to focus on other stories.

* * *

"You remember Castle Dour, don't you?" Rikke asked me as she led me up the staircase leading to the castle I was stationed at probably 30 years or more ago. I forget exactly how old I was when I first set foot in Skyrim, but this was my first permanent duty station. I spent the majority of my wide-eyed youth complaining about the cold and bitter summers. I wanted to be somewhere tropical, somewhere with girls in bikinis. Hammerfell was nice during the winters, but unbearable during the summers. Elsweyr was good year-round, but the mosquitos are the size of your hand. And they loved the scent of my blood.

As we reached the top of the stairway, my eyes immediately fixated on the smithy to the right. A man almost as old as me was smacking down on a sheet of metal, and I knew I knew him. He was a smithy apprentice at the very same smithy when I was a fresh recruit. He was tasked with making my very first sword and shield. They were both crap at the time. Seeing how he's folding the metal now, I'd say he's just as experienced at smithing as I am at killing things. If I had time, I would go catch up with him.

The two of us walked over to Castle Dour, which upon passing under the entrance arch to the outer area, I could see several Agents running the newer recruits through some basic survival skills. Things like, use your shield to block things coming at your face; that spear in your is to stab things with, like soft fleshy bodies; and my favorite: people who are dressed like you are probably not your enemies. The last one was a cautionary tale though. There are people who will dress up like the enemy, infiltrate their ranks, and when the opportunity presents itself, reveal themselves to their enemy, usually in the bloodiest way possible. I did it with a bandit troop once. Killed the majority of the bandit troop by using explosives and bringing down the tower while they were all inside eating. I only had to kill ten disoriented bandits as I exited the ruined building.

I stopped as I watched the fresh recruits going through their training exercises. The Agent in charge of them was a crisp Nord lad. He was standing in front of the troops, holding his shield. "Everyone, if I can get your attention. We, Nords, are not going to stop charging at a shield wall just because you put spikes on the front. If I can have a volunteer." He plucked an Imperial out of the crowd, placing him in a shield wall pose. "Now, see here. This…" He bashed his sword on the shield wall, all which caused the kid to lose his poise. "Does nothing for me but tire me out. So, what we Nords like to do is this…" He pulled out a wedge knife, and I was becoming curious. This was a lesson I don't think I've ever heard. He stabbed at the shield, which drew no response by the kid. The knife imbedded itself in the crevice where the barb sat. The Nord screamed as he snapped his plated foot out, kicking the knife through the shield. The shield split as the wedged knife went right through it. I heard the Imperial scream as the knife penetrated the shield, stabbing him right in the arm strapped into the shield.

The Agent nodded to the injured Imperial, saying, "This is why we wear plates on our forearms. I see only half of you have decided that it is necessary. This will remind you… wear all your equipment. If I see any of you without it, I will show you why you need it. Understood?" He looked at the injured man, bleeding down his shield. "Go see one of our healer, son." The Imperial nodded as he ran off to the infirmary.

Rikke only sighed. "Ragnar, don't kill my soldiers." She screamed to the Nord.

Ragnar only smiled, waving to Rikke. "Of course, ma'am. They wanted to fight Nords. I'm just making sure your Imperial branch know what they're up against. How long until we get some real Nords to join us?"

"We're actively recruiting, Ragnar. Just wait, I'm sure the people here will see we're in the right, and decide to join our cause." Rikke looked over at me, gesturing to Ragnar. "That's Ragnar. He grew up in Falkreath. He served in the Legion for 5 years." Five years, huh. That's not a long time. What would he really know about combat and fighting?

I sighed as I looked over to Rikke. "I'm going to teach him a _real_ lesson."

Rikke only glanced at me, wide-eyed as I walked away from her. "Flavius… oh… shit." She started chasing after me, but I wasn't going to let her stop me from teaching this whelp how to properly treat his soldiers. Five year veteran? I would clean his experience off my butt with a piece of butt tissue.

"Hey, soldier." I called out to Ragnar. "You seem to know how to bypass Imperial shields. Now, how would you fare in a situation where you are up against a solo spearman? Shield on his back, spear in both of his hands." I said as I walked past a raw recruit, snatching up his spear, and grabbing his shield, slacking the arm strap, converting it to a back loop. I slipped the shield over my shoulder, properly guarding my back. It's not the most conventional method of wearing a shield, but the crossbow units wear their shields like this to protect their backs while they reload their next volley.

Ragnar looked at my odd approach to wearing a shield, almost smiling because he clearly thought it was insane for an old man to wear a shield on his back, exposing his chest and stomach to an armed combat veteran. Spears are useful, and are always used with spears, and when in shield wall, we normally have a second person in the back controlling a long spear, pointed out through the cracks of the spear wall to impale the dumbasses who think the spear wall will just stand there and wait for the advancing wave to crash into them.

"Flavius, don't kill him." Rikke screamed with a hint of amusement, and that only made Ragnar angry and hot in the face. She just called him out, and now he had to defend his honor in front of his troop.

Ragnar gripped his sword tightly as he approached me. "Ok, rooks, we have a volunteer. So, you are going to have a lesson on how true Nords will deal with your spearmen." He sheathed his sword, pulling out two axes. "This is how the Stormcloaks will tear apart your spears. So, this Imperial is going to approach in what I assume is a standard charge."

I gripped my spear tightly as I walked up to the kid. "Sure, we'll go with that." The spear in my hand wasn't exactly to my liking. It was heavy in the front, maybe a bit wobbly too. Was the top even dug in deep enough and secured with proper adhesive? Eh, won't matter. The spear is just for show.

I charged the kid, already knowing what he planned on doing. As I thrusted my spear at him, in typical fashion, I might add, Ragnar caught the spear with his first axe, pulling it away from him. Good, he can at least defend himself. "Now, rooks, this is how a true Nord will catch your spears. By capturing it with their axe, and twisting it like this…" He tightened the hold on my spear, locking it in spot. "The Nord will catch your spear, preventing you from withdrawing it. With my other axe, I could snap the spear, but what would be the fun of that? You'd just have a splintery stick to smack me with. What we like to do is pull the spear away from us." And this was what I was waiting for.

As Ragnar pulled the spear, I pulled myself in, using his weight and mine to push him while he pulled me. Doing this gave me a quick charge at him, and knocked him off his balance. I quickly turned myself around, using the shield on my back as my charging attack, and I slammed my shield into him, effectively knocking him on his ass. I quickly pulled my spear from his lessened grip, snaked my foot around, twisting my hips, planting my foot on his chest, and I thrusted my spear at Ragnar's throat, just shy of piercing him.

"Your enemy will be stronger than you." I replied to the Imperials. "They have brute strength and will try to use it. So… instead of a tiring fight of controlling your weapons, you let your enemy have them. Use their strength against them, and they'll never expect it. Only the survivors know how to win fights, and your enemies must never be allowed to learn from your example. Do not let your enemies gather new techniques on how to improve their form of combat. Let them continue to trap spears and pull them away. If you charge in just like I have, you will always knock them on their asses, and with a spear or a knife, you can finish the fight." I turned to the troops. They looked surprised that I just put this Nord on his back.

I looked down at Ragnar. He looked just as surprised at how easily I defeated him. I smiled as I bent down, offering him a hand. "Don't take it personally, son. I served for 30 years. I've seen more combat than anyone here combined, likely. There was a slim chance you were going to win any demonstration with me."

Ragnar took my hand, nodding. "The Stormcloaks will not be easily crushed by a charge like that, though. It may work in singular combat, but in high numbers, it seems too risky."

What he said was true. I looked at the fresh troops, yelling, "Use this technique only when facing one of these… Stormcloaks in one-on-one engagements. Stick to your shield-brothers and you'll never need to. Understood?" The troops all 'hooah'ed and saluted me.

I nodded to Ragnar. "Continue teaching them what you know about the enemy." I patted him on the shoulder and then turned to face Rikke. She was trying her best to hide the smile on her face. I shrugged as I approached her. "Well, that was easier than I thought." I said as I turned to face the troops. Ragnar was dusting himself off, explaining how swords could be used to kill someone by stabbing them with the sharp pointy side. "Is he one of those Stormcloaks?"

Rikke shrugged. "He's teaching our boys, isn't he?" She sighed. "His father is a Stormcloak, as is his brother. But he saw what they did to a local family of elves, and he didn't want anything to do with it, so he joined the Legion. He told us about his family's involvement, even told us where to find his father and brother, in exchange that they didn't end up as a pin cushion. His father wouldn't go down without a fight, his brother did. Now, his brother is locked up until this war is over, and only if he agrees to be on his best behavior." She looked over to me. "And there's something I wanted to discuss with you. Follow me inside."

We made our way inside Castle Dour, where there sat a full map of Skyrim, covered with red and blue painted metallic chess figures. She gestured me to look at the map. "This is our situation. The Stormcloaks seem to own almost half of Skyrim. They have sympathetic Jarls in each of the holds: here, here, here. And of course, Windhelm." She pointed to Dawnstar, Riften, and Winterhold. General Tullius seems to think that the Stormcloak Rebellion will just quit after we express a significant amount of pressure on their army, but…"

I nodded. "Yeah, I remember. The locals in Stormhaven weren't exactly willing to comply with our wishes back then either."

She chuckled. "Actually, I was thinking of that mission in Dune. Remember the Mane's Advocates?"

I nodded. "Sure that their belief in the Mane protected them from actual harm."

She sighed. "Now, imagine that the Mane was a God of War and that their military movement was the will of their forgotten god."

Yeah, nothing scarier than a pissed off Nord that believes Talos will support every hack and slash. "And I'm guessing the more Stormcloaks present themselves, the surer that other sympathetic pissed off Nords will join their movement."

Rikke nodded again. "This is only going to get worse, and I have documents here that show that Ulfric, the leader of the Rebellion, is going to make a march up to Whiterun. Now, General Tullius left on a mission to intercept him, but I don't know if he will be successful. If General Tullius does not return from his mission… this entire operation falls to me. And I can't do this alone, Flavius. I need someone I can rely on. A fellow tactician, and experienced in all means of warfare. That's you. And if General Tullius does not capture Ulfric in time, or if… gods forgive me, if General Tullius falls in combat to Ulfric, and he marches up to Whiterun, capturing the whole territory… then it's only going to get worse. Impossible to win, worse. He'll hold the center, and can deploy troops in any direction in a timely order. We could gain ground in one area, and then his forces take two more elsewhere. I can't have that." She turned to me, punching the table. "Flavius, I need your help."

That was a tall order. "I moved to Skyrim to get away from the war. I'm retired; I'm old; I'm still a stacked man muffin." I flexed my loaded crossbows.

Rikke smirked lopsidedly. "I'm glad to see that your tongue still works in other ways too." Her grin disappeared as she walked over to me. "You saw what happened in the inn. Those spies might have gotten lucky if I didn't have you there to defend me. If the Legion in Skyrim loses… then all of Skyrim loses. If the Stormcloaks are allowed to prosper and thrive, the Legion officially defeated… then the Aldmeri Dominion will turn their attention to Skyrim. They will demand that the Legion step in and solve this problem… or they will. And that might begin the Great War, all over again. Flavius, this isn't about fighting some war… it's about preventing an even deadlier one."

Rikke had a point. I could already see the consequences in my head, playing out like the many revolutions I've helped put an end to. The fresh recruits outside in the training yard were examples of how stretched out and depleted the Imperial Legion really was. And if it was allowed to continue, the Legion would waste countless lives containing this rebellion, all the while the Aldmeri Dominion would be counting every dead soldier as a golden opportunity to finish the Empire off, once and for all. My beloved country would be reduced to ashes in one final battle…

I couldn't have that.

I glanced down at the map of Skyrim. I only wanted to find a plot of land, build my home, and enjoy my senior years. I guess I can't have Stormcloaks walking on my grass, now can I. I glanced back up at Rikke. "Do you have any authority to grant me my rank back?"

Rikke nodded. "If General Tullius is no longer at his post, I'm allowed to temporarily recruit new members, but once General Tullius returns, I will have to present you to him, and he'll have the final say. Any missions you do for me now will only strengthen my argument in your favor."

I'm not exactly on the best terms with the Empire right now, and the Legion has a lot of issues with the way I retired from it, even fighting it on occasion in Hammerfell. I don't know if Tullius is aware of how I retired from the Legion, but I do remember that the two of us have met on the battlefield once or twice, sometimes on the same side, sometimes on opposing. What I mean to say is that, during field operations, he and I have led our own legions into combat against each other. I rarely beat him in a strategic match, but in personal combat, I won every time.

If Tullius was here in Skyrim, then this war would not last much longer. Not sure why it's taken so long, honestly. If Tullius left to capture the leader of the rebellion, then it was already over. I wouldn't need to join the Legion. This will just be a mop up operation.

I looked over to Rikke. "If Tullius has left to capture Ulfric, then the war is already over. Tullius does not make mistakes in field operations. The only way Tullius could possibly mess it up is if something huge interfered. Something along the lines of…"

"A dragon." I heard the door to the war room burst open. Speak of the Daedra, and he shall come. Tullius clambered into the room, his armor burned, covered in soot. His once proud cape reduced to strips of cloth. He looked like he climbed out of Oblivion. "Rikke, I failed my mission. Ulfric escaped."

Escaped? How? "Are you not the genius tactician of the Western Gate?" I asked as I walked over to Tullius.

Tullius glanced at me, squinting. "You look familiar. Wait… only one person calls me the tactician of the Western Gate. Flavius? It is, isn't it. What are you doing here?" He didn't look pleased to see me, but he did not look angry either. He just looked tired. Tired and too shocked to read properly.

I shrugged. "I'm retiring, but… Rikke wants me to rejoin the Legion. She thought if you didn't return, she would need me to help her reclaim Skyrim. I can see that you still draw breath, so I am not needed."

"Oh, you're needed." Tullius said as he limped his way to us. "I had Ulfric, dead to rites. We were at Helgen, ready to chop his head off and send it back to the Imperial City to be adorned on a spike. Right as we were about to kill his Stormcloaks, there was this distant roar. We thought it a sabre cat and preceded to chop off their heads. And then… this massive black form falls from the sky, shattering the tower behind us. With a mighty roar, the sky was torn asunder. Rocks fell from the sky, flaming and exploding. The Stormcloaks, in the chaos, escaped, while I ordered the Legion to lay down their lives to help the civilians escape all while that black dragon tore through our forces. I watched my whole legion fall to one invincible creature. I barely escaped. I believe Ulfric did as well."

A dragon? That sounded impossible to believe, and yet… I felt something. A secret calling to me. A gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. He was telling the truth, and that was perhaps the scariest thing today.

"You left the Legion. You killed many of my friends, Flavius." Tullius began. "But you are also an experienced soldier, and I fear that Ulfric has somehow acquired his own dragon, whether impossible or not, it was there, and it all it did was attack my legionaries. It let the Stormcloaks flee, and that means one thing to me… just one more headache to endure while we end this rebellion. So, if the rebels have a dragon on their side, I'd like to have my own dragon on my side. So… Dragon of the Western Gate… we need your help. I hope you will do the right thing."

A dragon? First, it was just a rebellion that might end up with Skyrim being put to the Thalmor's blade. Now… all of Skyrim was danger. Dragons are not predicable. Entire cites are at risk. Everyone, including children, are at risk. I felt my hand tighten. This has gone on too long. Time to finally finish this.

"I have some of my armors in my ruck. As well as one of my swords. Give me a minute to get dressed." I replied. "And someone fetch me a horse." I glanced at Rikke. "Where are we heading first?"

Rikke smirked. "I'll tell you about it on the way. First, we must introduce you to the rest of the squad."

Tullius glanced at me, nodding. "Welcome to the Legion, auxiliary."

Auxiliary? "No… I'm a Legate."

Tullius shook his head. "You quit the service. Your rank was stripped from you when you went AWOL. You are an auxiliary. If you perform admirably, your rank will be returned to you in due time." Tullius limped his way over to me. "I look forward to seeing you take orders from a 20 year-old whelp. But first, I need to retire to my chambers. That dragon did a real number on me." He nodded to Rikke. "You do what you need to do, Rikke. Inform me to your success once you return."

She nodded. "I'll return with the crown, you have my word."

He grunted. "If the thing even exists. I need a bath." He limped down the stairs to the washroom.

I looked over to Rikke. "So, what's this thing I hear about a crown? Why are we going after it?"

"It will make Ulfric look like a loser if we own it." Rikke shrugged. "And right now… we need a win, even a small one like this." Well… I guess attrition will have to wait then.


End file.
